


Tintype

by Abiggaynerd



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: 1870s AU, Fluff, M/M, Western AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-25 17:20:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30092481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abiggaynerd/pseuds/Abiggaynerd
Summary: Wilson and Maxwell get a photograph taken.
Relationships: Maxwell/Wilson (Don't Starve)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	Tintype

**Author's Note:**

> A short fanfic of quetzalcoatlzz.tumblr.com ‘s western au comic, link here: https://quetzalcoatlzz.tumblr.com/post/641858715290583040/join-the-carter-ranch-discord-server

“Wilson. Will you pose for a photograph?” 

Wilson blinked, and laughed. “A photo? Of me? Whoever would want something like that?” 

Maxwell averted his eyes, blushing. “I happen to want a photograph of you. If you don’t want to, say so, and I’ll say no more about it.” 

“No- no, I... I don’t mind.” Wilson smiled. “As long as you take it with me.” 

“If you insist.” 

“I do insist.” 

“There is a man taking tintypes over there, for five cents. It says it’ll only take five minutes, see? Though it’ll probably take longer, I think. You can never trust a salesman.” 

“I’ve never had my photograph taken,” Wilson said. “This will be interesting.”

They made their way over to the man, who seemed tired, but brightened up as they came over. 

“Care for a photograph, gentlemen?”

“Yes, as it happens, we are in need of one.” 

“Step right up then! Both of you together?” 

Maxwell nodded. The man gestured to the seat. 

“Please sit.” 

Maxwell sat, and Wilson sat besides him. Maxwell took Wilson’s hand in his. Wilson turned red. He hoped the blush wouldn’t affect the photograph terribly. 

“Now, stay still, please. And don’t blink! This’ll be done in a jiffy!” 

Wilson froze, slightly tense, but Maxwell didn’t move. The flash went off, hurting Wilson’s eyes. 

The man smiled at them. “Please wait here. I won’t be a moment.” He hurried into a small dark tent behind him. 

“I hope it turned out well,” Wilson said. 

Maxwell smiled at him. “I’ve got no doubt in my mind it will be a fine picture.” He relaxed back on the chair again. “I haven’t had my own photograph taken in quite some time. It seems they’ve gotten faster. Maybe the claim it will only be five minutes wasn’t a fabrication.” 

Sure enough, the man came out soon after Maxwell had spoken, and was holding the tintype.

“Take a look, gentlemen,” the man said, holding it out. Maxwell took it. Wilson looked at it; it was an odd feeling to have a little miniature version of himself on a piece of paper. Let alone one that felt like proof of his love of another man; no one could tell, of course, but he knew. He was pleased he had made Maxwell take the picture with him.

Meanwhile, Maxwell was staring at the tintype quite hard. 

“May we have another one taken? Rest assured, we will pay for both, and take both.” 

The man nodded, pleased. “Of course, sir.” He took the photo back for safekeeping and set up the camera again.

Confused, Wilson got back into the original position, and Maxwell took his hand once again. The picture was taken, the man went back into his tent, and Wilson turned to Maxwell.

“Why did you ask for another one? We shan’t have changed much since the first one.”

“I’ll tell you later,” Maxwell said, blushing. Wilson smiled. Maxwell was a darling when he was embarrassed. 

The second photo was much the same as the first, and Maxwell paid the photographer and tipped heavily. Then they went on their way to enjoy the rest of the fair, and Wilson forgot about the tintypes for a while. 

-

“Wilson, beloved.” 

“Hm?” Wilson set down his book. They had returned from the Dallas Fair only yesterday, and Maxwell had been quite busy with something ever since. Maxwell stood before him, hands behind his back, clearly embarrassed. 

“I have... a gift,” Maxwell said. He thrust out his hand, and there was a small box in it. 

“Thank you!” Wilson said, touched. 

“Don’t say your thanks before you even open it,” Maxwell snapped. Wilson laughed, and opened it. 

“Why, it’s a locket! This is beautiful, Maxwell, thank you!” 

It was a silver oval locket, with a somewhat simple swirling design on it. There was a long chain, also silver, and Wilson pulled it over his head. 

“Open it,” Maxwell said. Wilson did so. 

“It’s you,” Wilson said, blushing. The photo of Maxwell had been carefully cut and placed into the locket.

“I have one also,” Maxwell said stiffly. “With your face.” He pulled a matching locket to Wilson’s out from under his shirt and opened it, showing Wilson’s own face inside. Wilson smiled at Maxwell brightly. 

“Oh, Maxwell, you’re such a romantic!” 

“I am not,” Maxwell insisted, but seemed pleased. Wilson got up and hugged him. 

“Whyever did you get two pictures if this was your plan?” 

“I wanted one to keep,” Maxwell admitted. “And one I could have on me always.” 

“And you say you’re not a romantic. Silly man! Come here.” 

Wilson kissed him. Maxwell smiled, and kissed him back.


End file.
